Ghosts
by EverythingSlytherin
Summary: She just wants to understand why her mother did it. She wants Dr. Martin Whitly to help her understand why he could love his family, but her mother could not.
1. Chapter 1

Olive was very experienced with the mentally ill. She had worked at three different hospitals. She was used to trying to subdue someone during a breakdown and how to be friendly enough that they don't find her overbearing, or worthy of obsession. Olive was familiar with dosages and time management and diets. That's why they didn't think twice about hiring her at Claremont Psychiatric Hospital. Her job was simple: bring food to the most non-violent inmate in their care and give the security guard a break twice a day. Non-violent didn't mean safe. She knew that from Malcolm, his son.

_"Is this a joke? A mistake?" Olive asked quietly and calmly as gentle tears ran down her pale cheeks._

_"I'm sorry, no." Malcolm Bright stated before Gil Arroyo could open his mouth. "I don't make mistakes."_

_"Ms. Jackson." Gil said, "There is overwhelming evidence. Your mother murdered your father."_

_"She was going to murder you, too. Took out a $500,000 life insurance policy on you."_

_Olive shook her head. Her mother had always been cold. It was obvious that she hated Olive, but she thought that her parents were in love. "How? How did she do it?"_

_"Ricin. A little bean, very poisonous." Malcolm spoke more than Gil. She wondered if he had ADHD._

_Olive nodded slowly, "I watched that episode of Breaking Bad with her."_

_"What?" Gil asked, "She got this from a television show?"_

_"I hate her." Blurted out of Olive's mouth before she could stop. She was passed the grieving stage and was entering rage._

_"Hey." Malcolm kneeled next to her, "It's okay. Having a parent as a murderer is a hard thing to deal with, but, you don't have to hate her. My father was a murderer and I loved him so much when I was younger. While he was killing people."_

_"She's always been distant with me." Olive sniffed, "I wanted her love. To love her. It never happened."_

_It was different from Malcolm. His father had been great while they were growing up. Olive's mother showed her true intentions from the moment she was born, "She never wanted me." Olive was twenty-five. _

_Twenty-five years of hate._

The Surgeon was Malcolm's father. He had shown his family love while being a monster. Olive's mother couldn't. She wanted to know how. That was her goal. Not by asking, but by observing. She planned on not saying anything. Maybe a 'hey' every once in a while. Mostly, just watching. Listening.

Her natural platinum blonde hair was put into a neat low bun, two strands hanging in front of her face. It had been three months since her mother was arrested for murder, but that didn't affect her ability to put on a touch of light pink lipstick and mascara. She was depressed and scarred; looking pretty was like an armor. At least she didn't have to worry about the bags under her eyes. Olive wore nurse's scrubs that she had from her previous job and non-slip shoes. The scrubs were form-fitting, comforting for the career she had chosen. She always had to buy a size up due to her breasts, which were a little big for her, but not too unbearable. Olive, unlike her name states, had skin so pale that they used to think she was albino. She doesn't tan, she burns.

Olive walked into the ominous, lone hallway with a tray that was given to her in the cafeteria at the utterance of the name Dr. Martin Whitly. At the end of the hallway was a tall, old man in a security uniform who sat in a chair next to a door with a glass window. The Surgeon's room.

"Whoa, there." Said the man as he stood, "Stop right there." Olive had never halted so quickly, "You're here to feed the Doc and finally give me a break?"

"Yes, sir." Her voice was naturally quiet. He must think that this tiny thing shouldn't be guarding anyone.

"You?" He shook his head, muttering to himself. "Alright, come along. What's your name?"

Olive walked up to him as he unlocked the door with the window, "Olive." Her heart was in her throat, but she tried to think of him more as Malcolm's father than a serial killer. She may have inflated her resume a little too much. She usually worked with disturbed teens, not killer men.

"Mr. David!" Dr. Whitly called happily, "I'm starving! What's on the menu tod-" He silenced himself as Olive peeked out from behind Mr. David. "Who's this?"

"Dr. Whitly, this is Olive. She's here to deliver your food." He motioned for her to do so with his eyes. "Sit it on the floor, slide it forward past the red line."

"I'm like a dog with a shock collar." Dr. Whitly watched her intently from his desk, "They took away the cage, but this wire is keeping me here." He gestured to the wire anchored to the wall that kept him within the red border.

"Right. A dog." Mr. David said as he saw Dr. Whitly look at her chest. "Now, I'm finally going to take a damn break."

"What? A break?" Dr. Whitly stood, "You haven't taken a break in twenty years."

"I know. Follow me, Olive. Enjoy your breakfast, Doc." Olive followed him out and he locked the door tightly behind them before giving the keys to her, "The rules are simple. Don't open the door until I come back in an hour. These are for medical emergencies but don't open the door until you called the medics with your walkie. Don't open the door when he asks and don't give him anything. In fact, don't talk to him. Don't even look at him. When I come back, I'll escort you in to grab the tray and then I'll see you at dinner time."

"Okay. Thank you, Mr. David."

"You're welcome."

She watched him go as she sat down in the chair. She didn't think to bring a book, so she wondered if the doctor would think she was vapid if she pulled out her phone. Olive didn't think about how she was going to stealthily watch him through the window panes on either side of the door. It was easy while he was eating. He paid attention to his food and not the stranger outside his walls.

Olive wondered if her mother ate without care as well. Would her mother get a room that was like an apartment as well? With bookcases and a desk? She never planned to see her mother. Ever. Olive zoned out and stared at the wall in front of her, thinking of her father. Yes, she was a daddy's girl. She had to be without the love of her mother. Olive was never going to see or hear him again.

"Yoohoo!"

She jumped at the sudden call and look up through the windows at the doctor. "I'm finished with my food now, Olive. You may take the tray."

"Not until Mr. David gets back." She looked at her watch, "We still have half an hour."

"I'm sure he won't mind. Come in!"

"Didn't you kill twenty-something women?" She found herself snapping. "I'm not going in there." At any other job, she would've been reprimanded. However, she was alone and her father was just murdered.

The doctor was quiet for a moment, "You know, it's unfair that you can come in here with these pretenses and I know nothing about you. Tell me, how old are you, Olive?"

This wouldn't hurt, "Twenty-five, sir."

"Please, don't call me 'sir'. Call me 'doctor' if you'd like."

Olive had a memory of one of her dad's favorite movies, Little Shop Of Horrors, where the damsel in distress was made to call her evil boyfriend 'doctor'. Made sense in this context as well. Olive didn't answer. After a minute of silence, he said, "Something is making you upset, what is it?"

"Please, I'd rather not speak with you. Sir." She added that last part out of spite.

The doctor laughed, "Oh, what a spit-fire! Okay, I'll leave you alone. I've enjoyed our talk."

Olive found him charming. That was part of his appeal. He was a people person. He had to be to get away with doing what he was doing all those years ago. He had unruly hair that was comical almost and she found herself thinking that if it were tamed, then he wouldn't look that bad. He looked the opposite of her own dad. He had blonde hair just like hers and bright blue eyes, just like hers. Shocking almost.

Dr. Martin Whitly thought that they put a chill through him like ice.

Not soon enough, Mr. David returned.

"How'd it go?" He asked.

"Fine." Olive refrained from tattling about the doctor trying to get her to open the door.

"Well, let's get you out of here." Mr. David took his keys back and they opened the door to retrieve the tray. Mr. David had his hand on his stun gun just in case as Olive walked into the space, breaching the red line to retrieve the tray that was in front of him on the desk. He didn't hide the fact that he smelled her very well. She smelled like vanilla cookies, which he will never have again.

"Olive." He called as she walked away. She turned once she was back across the line to find him right in front of her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Did you know that your name is from the Greek word elaion? It means oil, which, as I'm sure you know, is one of the most revered things in Greece. And you, dear girl, are a slippery one."

Olive also felt that chill right then.

"Come on, then. You need to be back here in six hours."

"Excellent." Martin grinned.

At her apartment, she sat heavily on her grey couch with a sigh. She was getting paid a pretty penny to do this, although now that her mother was in jail, Olive was the sole inheritor of one million dollars. She didn't need to work for a long time, but she was a hoarder of money. Maybe she got that from her mother. Her apartment had a loft over the kitchen that had enough space for her to stand in. It held her bed and her dresser, as well as a couple of tiny bookshelves. She lived in the upper floor of a townhouse and the bay window that was in her loft held a nest area filled with pillows and cushions. For movie nights, mostly. It could be reached by a tiny spiral staircase.

The living room was separated by a rectangle dark wood dining table, hosting a coffee table and a television stand of the same color. There was a great collection of movies and series sat inside that television stand. She was a big fan of the movies.

Olive pulled a notebook out of her bag and wrote down what had happened today:

_Charming. Not sure if he really loves or if it's an obsession, maybe. I've heard that some psychopaths get the two confused. He smelled me, looked up the meaning of my name. But, before I spoke to him, his goal was for me to open the door. He was going to escape or kill me, that's for certain. However, it all changed when I spoke badly to him. He likes challenge._

Six hours later, she was back at the cafeteria, back to the hallway, back to Mr. David. He appeared to be sleeping in his chair when she got there. Olive nudged him, "Mr. David, it's me, Olive." He jerked awake, making Olive nearly lose her tray.

"Oh, hey there, girl. You can't just sneak up on a security guard like that."

"I'm not scary."

"You are when you look like a damn ghost."

"Where's my meal? I'm hungry." The doctor was grinning at Olive. She was hungry, too, for answers. She was going to get them.

"Yeah, yeah." Mr. David stood up and unlocked the door for Olive. She brought it in and slid it towards the doctor.

"Ah, thank you, Olive. Nice to see you again. A fresh face in my gloomy world."

"I'm sure." She muttered a little too loudly.

Martin barked a laugh, "My, my. I do enjoy this so far."

"Come on, Olive. Time to leave him to eat in peace."

This time, it was uneventful. She could feel his eyes on her as she read her book this time. An Anonymous Girl, it was called. It was helping her understand a person's morality. It was started to make her paranoid of her own morals. She had sat a cracker in her friend's chair when she was younger and he sat on it. Was that too bad? Or is it only bad when you're killing twenty-three women or your husband? What is the limit?

"You're poor." His sudden voice made her jump. "That's why you took this, pardon my French, shitty job. You're desperate."

Would lying be too morally corrupt? She kept silent. "How desperate are you?" He asked.

"... What do you mean?" Olive wanted to see where this went.

"Okay, girl, I'm back." Mr. David came in, interrupting the doctor. She felt that he did that on purpose. Now, she was going to think about it overnight.

Olive wasn't desperate at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Olive had a nightmare that night. Her father was on an operating table and Dr. Martin Whitly was reassuring her that everything would be alright as he ripped out her father's heart. She woke up from sweat and daylight before her alarm went off. It was almost time for her to go back. Olive nearly stomped down her stairs from her loft and went into her kitchen to fix a bowl of cereal. After a nightmare, one would think that she wouldn't watch Tales From the Crypt, but it calmed her nerves.

She didn't want to go back, but there she was, getting ready and heading out to her car. That was the only thing she bought with her father's life insurance. Her old car was on its last legs. It would've cost more to repair it than to just buy a new one. Olive developed a nervous tic on the way to the hospital where she would listen to part of a song and then turn it and repeat. She was almost glad when she got there so that she could stop playing that stupid game.

Now, Olive was playing another.

She was pretty sure what he was going to ask. She was desperate for money, supposedly, so that meant that he was going to offer up his wife's money since he didn't have any himself. What he asked was a little different.

Olive's eyebrows shot up, "You... want me to hook you up with your wife?" She sucked at the whole 'lay low and don't talk to him' thing.

"Yes! You see, I saw her the other day and she was so gorgeous. The years have been kind to her. All I can say is that a spark had ignited in me that had been dead for a long time and I would like to pass some ideas by you."

"I'm sorry, but, what does this have to do with the money?" She asked him through the glass.

Martin raised his eyebrows, "Well after the deed is done, I will merely suggest to her that we send you to monitor our son Malcolm for a generous amount of money so that she has more time for us."

He wanted a spy. Olive figured he couldn't actually give two fucks about sleeping with his wife. He needed to know about his son. Martin didn't know just how easy it'd be for her to call Malcolm up and request a meetup. He was a caring guy. However, Martin didn't know that she knew him. Martin figured that his wife would be easier to deal with and to convince after sex, but getting there was going to be a bitch.

"You're insane."

"That's why I'm here."

Olive sighed and ran her hand through her long blonde hair, avoiding the braid she had put in it. "Dr. Whitly, you're right. I am desperate." Could he tell that she was lying? "But, not that desperate. Call your wife and tell her how much you love her. Soften her up and do it yourself."

"Just call her? Why didn't I think of that?" The doctor nodded, "I'll do that. What would you say if she offered you the money to watch Malcolm?"

Olive shrugged, "Depends on the amount." That was her mother talking.

"Excellent! We'll talk further after I call my wife." Olive nodded and turned, but was stopped when Dr. Whitly spoke, "Olive."

"Yes, sir?"

"Has anyone told you that you look absolutely stunning lately?"

Olive's heart nearly stopped in her chest and her throat closed, "... I think that's that spark talking."

"The one between us? Yes."

Olive did not like this. She turned fully towards him, "There is nothing there. I'm here for-" She stopped herself.

Dr. Whitly furrowed his eyebrows, "Here for what? Come on, share with the good doctor."

"Shut up." She told him before sitting down and pulling out her book.

That was fast, she thought to herself. Olive went home and when she came back, Martin was in a foul mood. "This was your idea."

"What?"

"I called her, as you said." He was angry as he paced back and forth in his room, his food remains untouched. "All she does is call me a monster!" He yelled. This was scary. He was unhinged and hurt.

"Martin, listen to me." She took out the keys and unlocked the door. That got his attention. He was angry and volatile. Mad at a certain woman that could outreach to other women. She didn't plan on going past the red line.

"What are you doing?" He asked, "Do you want to get hurt?"

The answer was 'no'. "Martin, move the rug."

"Why?"

"Just trust me."

Martin moved the rug and watched her as she laid down on her stomach, pressing her cheek to the concrete floor. "Come on, Martin."

"No. This is absurd."

"Trust me."

It was bold of her to ask for his trust. Martin laid down on his side of the red line and pressed his cheek to the ground as well. The coldness radiated throughout his body. "Do you feel that?" She whispered. It was suddenly very quiet.

"It's cold." He answered in a normal tone.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven," She was getting quieter with each number. Her eyes were hypnotizing, "Six, five, four," Martin was feeling a strange calmness come over him, "Three, two, one." She closed her eyes and Martin felt cheated. He needed them back to keep this everlasting calm going. Without her eyes, he was alone with his thoughts.

"Don't fall asleep on me, now." He muttered. She actually smiled.

"Feel better?"

"Much."

Olive stood up and wiped her cheek, wondering how much dust came off onto her. Martin took his time standing and putting his rug back. "Where'd you learn to do that."

"My dad." It just rolled off her tongue like she needed to get it out, "I used to have tantrums as a kid."

"You seem like the tantrum type."

"Thanks." Olive turned to leave but jumped when his hand landed on her arm. She forgot that he wasn't wearing handcuffs.

He jerked it away quickly, "Wait. Please, sit and eat with me. Or, as I eat. We can talk."

This was bad. This was a no-no. The biggest no-no to ever no. "Sure." Fuck.

They talked about how much he loved his family. That was what she wanted. From the sound of it, they were all he thought about. How to get his family back into his life. He kept asking about her family, but she told him that this was about him, to get him to relax more. Olive kept trying to remind herself that he was a psychopath and a murderer. However, he was what her mother wasn't. Warm and inviting. She was getting drawn in. Olive felt like she was letting herself fall into his grasp.

Why couldn't her mother do the same? Be obsessed with her family? Even if it was fake love. Olive realized that her mother acted so in love with her father so that she wouldn't be suspected by the police. But, she was. Her mother was stupid, and Olive felt herself not falling so far from the tree.

"Mr. David will be back at any moment. You might want to go back to your post."

"You're right. We'll think of more ideas for your wife tomorrow, alright?"

"Nevermind about that. I have a different plan, now. It's a secret." He winked at her.

Olive hated herself for finding it charming and stood, locking the door back behind her. She had abandoned her plan. The new plan was to feel the love and heal from her past.

Olive was dumb, indeed.


	3. Chapter 3

Olive got her spine back from Dr. Whitly overnight when she had an inappropriate dream about him. Her dreams have always been riddled with her real-life feelings and that was how she knew that she needed to cool herself. She thought about quitting since she felt that she nearly got what she wanted. Olive couldn't tell if he was influenced to stalk his son through her due to years of incarceration or if he really was obsessed like she thought.

Maybe, he even lied on the stand. He wanted the psychiatric hospital instead of prison. Everyone always does. Olive sighed, staring down at the bagel she had made. She wasn't hungry. She grabbed her bag and her book and left for her job.

She'll give it another week before she quits.

Olive arrived and did everything very slowly, trying to buy herself time before she had to face Dr. Whitly. He noticed this. He watched the clock on the wall click past ten o'clock, which was breakfast time. She was always there. Olive was five minutes late, which made Mr. David itchy as well. He was addicted to his breaks now.

When she showed, Martin felt... Joy. Relief. He liked her, that was for sure. She was sexy and fun. She was hiding something, and he loved the chase. "Olive." The name dripped off of his tongue like maple syrup. "You brought my pancakes."

"Yes, sir."

Unfortunate. She was calling him 'Martin' the day before. Olive was distancing herself and that's not what he wanted. He wanted her begging for his attention so that she would do whatever he wanted. Martin was sure that they'd get there eventually.

"You're late." Mr. David told her.

"Traffic." Was her lie. She was always lying these days. Olive slid the tray across the line and quickly exited the room without looking at Dr. Whitly.

When they were alone, Olive just pulled out her book and read. She ignored him while he cleared his throat. Even when he called her name. "What is this? Are you angry with me? You know the silent treatment won't solve anything. It won't fix what you're feeling."

"What am I feeling?" She muttered as she turned the page.

"Guilt."

"What?" How could he be so wrong, "Guilt?"

"Why else would you be reading this book?" He held up his own copy, "I had Mr. David run out and get me my own copy. An interesting read, truly, but I found the end to be sloppy."

"Don't tell me the end!" Olive nearly shouted. She hated spoilers.

"I won't tell you any spoilers if... You talk to me."

"What?" She asked, "What do you want to talk about? Because I'm tired of talking."

"Oh, I'm not. In fact, there's a lot of talking on page 363." He started flipping through the book.

She stood, "Okay! Okay. We'll talk."

He snapped the book shut with a smile, "Great. Have any siblings?"

"No."

"Your parents?"

"Dead." Half true.

"I'm deeply sorry for your loss. How?"

"Fire."

"Did you start it?"

"How dare you ask that?" Olive pretended to be offended, "No. It was electrical. I know nothing about electricity."

"Hm. What a shame, we could've had something in common."

That sent a shock through her. He was joking about being a killer. He took lives and joked about them. Olive shoo'd her feelings away. He really was a psychopath. He didn't love anybody. Killers can't love. "Why don't you come inside?" He asked. "I won't bite."

Those were Doja Cat lyrics, not that he would know that. "Why would I do that?"

"To discuss the book. I won't reveal the ending, I promise."

She hated every part of her that wanted to say yes. She hated that those parts won. Olive stood and unlocked the door, stepping inside. "Have a seat." He told her. She sat.

"So, what are your thoughts on this book so far?"

"I think it's incredibly written. The detail makes it believable. I think it should be a movie."

"I would watch it. Who's your favorite character?"

"Lydia. She's complex and just wants to find answers."

Martin raised his eyebrows, "Interesting choice. I was going to say the guy with the restaurant. He seems fun."

"He does." She smiled. His eyes lingered on her lips.

"What do you think of the message?"

"Um..." She ran her hand through her hair. "I think that morality makes us who we are. I don't think it makes us bad or good, but everyone is definitely a bit grey." Olive should not have just said that to a manipulative killer.

"What makes you grey?" Martin asked her.

She looked at him intently, "... Everyone lies."

"Have you lied to me?" Martin's tone was getting a bit darker.

"Why would I lie to you? All I do is watch you while you eat."

"Slippery Olive-"

"Don't call me that-"

"Is capable of anything, I bet." He smiled. "Here, stand up." Martin stood right next to the red line.

"Okay." She said slowly, standing.

"Come closer."

"Why?"

"I'm testing a moral of ours. Come on, now. In your words, trust me." She felt bound by those words as she rolled her eyes and stepped closer. "Ready?" He asked. She nodded. Martin lifted his hand and gently touched her cheek. The first time he's really touched someone in twenty years. Her cheek was so soft. She went very still. "Now, you can lie to me and tell me this doesn't feel good." He whispered, "Or tell the truth." Cat had her tongue. So, he took his chance. Hoping his lips weren't chapped, he leaned forward and placed a soft, small kiss on her lips before placing his forehead against hers, whispering still.

"Lie to me and tell me there's no spark."


	4. Chapter 4

She didn't work the next day. She had called frantically and told them that her father had just died tragically. Not a lie. Olive just kept remembering the day before. She felt hate for Martin. Hate because he was right. It was almost instant, that spark. It worked up in her as soon as she saw him and Olive wanted to hit him repeatedly for it. However, she opted to just stay home in bed instead, crying so hard that her pillow was covered in snot. Now she had to wash her bedsheets

Martin Whitly was angry. He thought he won yesterday when Olive finally kicked into gear and ran out of here before Mr. David even came back. He thought for sure she would be back here. However, this was the third day that Olive was not here. The first couple of days he was told that she was sick, but now he was told that her father had unexpectedly just died. Who did she lie to? Them, probably. Although, she had answered 'Dead' very quickly and without much remorse. It took her a moment to state that it was a fire. A lie?

He needed to know and if she quits, he would never know. "Mr. David, I need a favor."

She was watching Tales From the Crypt when her cell phone rang with an 'unknown' number. Olive had stopped crying about thirty minutes ago and answered the phone, just in case it was a lawyer, her voice hoarse, "Hello?"

"Olive."

She sat straight up on her couch, "Mom."

The woman sighed on the other end, "It's so good to hear your voice."

"Bullshit." Shot out of her mouth, "You were going to kill me, too."

"I swear I wasn't." Her mother, Cynthia, stated, "I had that life insurance policy just in case. I took it out when you were seventeen."

"You know I can check that, right?"

"I know, honey." This woman had never called Olive anything endearing her entire life.

"Fuck you." Olive hung up. She definitely couldn't keep her thoughts to herself these days.

Less than two minutes later, Unknown called again. Olive answered in a rage, "I said, Fuck you!"

"... Olive, dear, it's Dr. Whitly. I just called to check on you."

She felt a chill run down her spine, the one he had stolen from her again, and she quickly hung up. This could not be happening. She just wanted some peace. Her phone rang again and she decided to just turn it off altogether. This was too much. She was on the episode with Joe Pesci and the crazy twins. That was a good one.

The next morning, she turned her phone back on. She had five voicemails and seven missed calls, all from Dr. Whitly.

_"Olive? I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Please pick up."_

_"Hello, me again, I heard your father just died, care to talk?"_

_"Now, Olive, I need to know the truth. You promised you've never lied to me."_

_"Mr. David's gone now. I just want to say that I miss you and whatever you have to say, I'll listen."_

_"Answer the phone, damn it!"_

Olive deleted everything. She was just glad that none of them were her mother. She had the next day off, but then she promised to go back to work. She was supposed to decide whether or not she was going to quit, but she didn't think much about it. Seven seasons of Tales From the Crypt devoured in just a few days, not including the cartoon version that she fell asleep during.

Olive decided to make some visits, just to ease her own mind.

She was in the waiting room of the prison and she watched her mother come in in an orange jumpsuit. Her dark blond hair had always been in a neat bun, but now it hung loose around her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes were the color of sapphire. The only thing they shared was a love for movies and television. She used to be a school teacher. A school teacher! Cynthia sat down in front of her. "You were very rude on the phone. I was trying to be nice."

"You had to try. That's the problem." Olive ran her hand through her hair, "Mom, you don't like me. You never have."

"Are you kidding?" Cynthia asked, "I had to compete with your father and that was just a losing battle. You were always nipping at his heels like a little puppy. You were always upset to see me."

"Because you were upset to see me! You can't compete with my dad, you guys were in it together. I tried so hard to feel your love, but you're cold."

"I showed the best I knew how. I received no affection from my parents, how was I supposed to give it to you?" Cynthia sniffed, starting to cry.

"You killed my dad!"

"Hey!" The security guard yelled, "Settle down!"

Cynthia was definitely crying now, whispering, "I protected you from who he really was."

Olive went silent, "What are you talking about?"

"I couldn't care less about the insurance money." Her mother said.

"Mom, what are you saying?"

"Alright," The guard said, "Time's up, let's go."

"Wait, no!" Olive called as her mother was motioned to get up.

"Ma'am, it's time for you to leave."

Her mother looked back at her, "I'll call you."

Olive didn't know it, but there were tears running down her own face as well. She had no choice but to leave. In her car, she cleaned her face up in the mirror. She didn't put makeup on that day. Her purple bags were clear and the real pale peach shade of her full lips shown through. Olive didn't care how bad she looked. She was going to visit Dr. Whitly.

Olive walked through, telling the guards that she saw every day that she needed to speak to the head nurse. He was the one who hired her. However, that's not where she was going. She was going to use her keycard to visit Dr. Whitly. Olive did exactly that. She walked down the hallway and Mr. David jerked his head up, not expecting anyone. Dr. Whitly was actually in his cell watching television. Who on Earth agreed to that?

Mr. David stood up and whisper-shouted as to not alert the doctor, "Olive! What in the hell are you doing here? You should be grieving!"

"I need to talk to the doctor. Please. It's about my father." True and true.

Mr. David sighed, "Alright, you have ten minutes."

"Can we have privacy?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Please. I'm desperate." Perhaps it was the pleading mixed with the tearing eyes that made him agree.

"Ten. Minutes."

"Thank you."

Mr. David unlocked the door and allowed her in before closing it after her and walking out the door at the end of the hallway.

"Olive." Dr. Whitly stood up as she turned off the television. "You got my voicemails."

"I did."

"You told me your father was dead."

She stepped towards the red line, "My father didn't die. I mean, he did, a long time ago. This man was like a father to me. He died in a car crash a week ago." Her tear-stained cheeks made everything seem real.

"Is this a lie?" Martin asked.

"Why did you kiss me?" Olive asked instead of answering. She was tired of answering.

Dr. Whitly shook his head, "Answer me."

"Stop thinking I'm lying when I'm not!" She yelled. "Now answer me!"

"Because I like you." He answered more calmly than she did. "I wanted to see if you like me, too. And you do. You can try to deny it, but I felt it."

"You felt it?" She nearly growled as she stepped closer to him, "I hate you. All I want to do is hit you." She kept walking towards him, backing him up into his desk, "Hit you until you stop talking. Stop thinking. Because all you think is that you're smarter than everyone else. I'm fucking tired of it."

He tried not to smile, "At least I can admit when I'm attracted to someone."

Olive realized that she was breathing heavily as she stared up at him. Then, she stood on the balls of her feet and kissed him. He hadn't been handcuffed. There wasn't time for Mr. David to do that. Martin spun her around so her back pressed painfully against the desk. He deepened the kiss and cupped his hands underneath her thighs to lift her up on the desk. Olive broke the kiss, "We only have five minutes."

"That's all I need."


	5. Chapter 5

She really couldn't believe that she did that.

It was like she suddenly became stupid ever since she met Dr. Martin Whitly.

Olive sat on her couch, unmoving since the incident. That's what it was known as to her. Like a tragic accident that should never had happened. Because it shouldn't have. She made a big mistake. That's all that's she's been making. Mistakes.

Martin was right when he said that he only needed five minutes. He finished in four. That's what happens when one doesn't have sex in twenty years, he had had said while pulling up his pants. It wasn't unenjoyable, but she was expecting more. It wasn't a great first encounter.

And last encounter.

Olive had decided to stick it out at the hospital until she eaither got fired or until Martin figured her out. That's where she was going that morning, to work. Olive's heart was pounding in her chest, nervous to see him again. She didn't know why. He was a psychopath. He probably will rub it in her face that he was able to get inside her. Or, ignore that it even happened at all. She was betting on the ladder.

Olive picked up the breakfast tray and took the long walk to Martin's cell. Mr. David wasn't too great of a face to see because it meant that she was there already. "I hope you got what you came for yesterday." He told her. For a moment, she thought that he knew what happened. She had been out of there before he even came back.

"I did." She told that lie like it was her name.

He stuck the key into the lock and turned it, making Olive start to sweat. "Go on now, feed the man." Mr. David ushered her in. Martin was sitting on his bed as Olive quickly sat the tray down and slid it over the red line and turned to leave.

"Olive, I have a question for you."

She cringed as she turned around, staring at his feet, "Yes, sir?"

"What should happen to a married man who cheats?"

Martin still saw himself as married even though his wife divorced him. That was her and his mistake. He was just preoccupying himself with her. She figured that out. "I think divorce would be in order, sir."

Martin frowned, "You don't think they could work it out?"

"Never."

"Hm."

Olive left after that. She wasn't going to subject herself to that any more. That was the entire plot of the book that they bonded over. Olive believed in 'once a cheater, always a cheater', but not when they hadn't seen each other in twenty years. That was different. Everthing was different when you're a serial killer.

Olive wasn't surprised when he called out to her through the door once Mr. David was gone, "Olive, we need to talk."

"No, we don't."

"Are you ashamed of what we did?"

Yes. Yes. A thousand times, ignored him.

"I'm not. I enjoyed it. I would very much like to do it again sometime. I promise to last more than five minutes."

"Four." She muttered.

"What was that?"  
Olive sighed, "It's never going to happen again. It was a misjudgement. Besides, you have a wife."

"Yes, but I've been thinking, can one feel romantically for two people at once? Cheaters say that it is possible and these days I tend to agree."

"Good for you." She answered sarcastically. Anything to get him to stop talking to her.

"Do you feel romantically for me?"

Olive stood and walked towards the door at the opposite end of the hall. She was going to wait until a couple of minutes before Mr. David gets back to go back in like she had been there the whole time.

"Where are you going? You can't walk away from this!"

Yes, she could.

Her home was her favorite place. It was now her safe haven from Dr. Whitly. Olive was waiting for a phone call, like her mother promised. She figured that that was why she slept with the doctor. Because she was anxious and confused. She was having some serious parental issues and sleeping with a man twice her age seemed logical.

But, once again, she had become stupid.

It was time again to go back to the hospital. She wanted to stay home and watch Night Gallery. Olive sat on her car for a while, knowing that she was going to be late. She wondered if that would get her fired. She wondered if her mother was full of shit, like she always has been. Olive eventually got out and walked into the building, flashing her keycard and identification to security. She walked into the cafeteria, which was oddly quiet, to retrieve the tray of food.

Down the lightly lit hallway was Dr. Whitly's cell. The craftmanship was old. She wondered who it had housed at the beginning of the hospital. She pictured a Hannibal Lecter type. Then again, Dr. Whitly was that type.

"I don't appreciate you being late." Mr. David said, "I'm taking my hour, no matter what." He said as he opened the door, "Go on, now."

Dr. Whitly didn't say anything to her as she walked in. He was doodling at his desk, probably another one of his penciled human anatomies. Her eyes lingered on him before she turned and left. It really bothered her that he didn't call her name and say something that would irritate her. That in itself was irritating. And saddening. Why was it saddening?

Mr. David left and it was quiet. She never knew just how quiet it could be without his incessant talking.

Olive watched as he grabbed his meal and sat down, eating. It was mystery meatloaf for dinner, along with corn and waited until he was done to shyly stand up and walk to the window, quietly asking, "... What's wrong?"

"Oh, no. If you don't want me to talk to you, then I don't want you to talk to me."

"Sir, I-"

"Stop calling me that. It's strange."

"Dr. Whitly." She stated, "Please, you're making the atmosphere weird."

He chuckled, "You're the one who initiated."

Olive was feeling a rise in her. "What do you want?"

"Get in here."

Olive hesitated, but did as she was told. She unlocked the door and stepped in.

"Close the door."

She did that as well.

Dr. Whitly stood and walked towards her, staring down at her precious face. She was beautiful and seemed as if she would break if he touched her, but she did not. He knew that for certain now. He touched his hand to her cheek, "I want to know everything about you. Starting with your feelings for me."

His touch certain froze her, just like her eyes froze him. That was undeniable. "... I think I'm having a mental breakdown." She told him, "And you're part of rock bottom."

"... That's good enough for me." He leaned down and gently kissed her, his beard scratching her face. The frozen parts of them warmed up and they were suddenly shedding clothes. He touched every part of her.

They laid down on his bed and he was suddenly in her, licking her breast as he thrusted inside her. It was much better than before. Almost too much. It had been a long time before him since she had had sex and it only took a few rubs on her clit before she orgasmed. He wanted more.

Olive orgasmed thrice before he finally came. He sat inside her for a moment before saying, "You're too young for me."

Her legs were still cramping, "You're too young for me."

He laughed and then pulled out, standing. He could barely do it, but didn't let her see that. "You should get dressed before Mr. David gets back in five minutes."

"Yes, Doctor."


	6. Chapter 6

Olive was a fool who was willing to be barred from working at any hospital ever again just to have sex with a serial killer. She was hating and loving every minute of it. She had a break in her sanity, obviously. A week had passed and she hasn't had that much sex in her entire life. It doesn't help that she felt the need to cuddle afterward. Cuddling equaled talking and talking equaled him getting manipulation ammo. Olive expected to be manipulated so that she won't be disappointed later.

She went in the hallway that housed the cell and was surprised to see that the door was already open and Mr. David was standing outside it, guarding. There was a man in there, she could only see his back. He was tall and slender and wore a nice suit. Mr. David motioned for her to stop. However, Dr. Whitly had other plans. "Ah, yes. My meal is here. Please, sit it on my desk."

"You know she can't do that. Slide it on the floor."

The mystery man turned as the tray slid next to him and a look of surprise came over his face, "Olive?"

She stood and quickly replaced her fear with surprise, "Malcolm?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I work here. What are you doing here?"

"This is my father." He pointed to the very confused older man.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Whitly chuckled, "How do you two know each other?" It sounded more like a demand than a question.

"We-" Malcolm started, but saw Olive slightly shake her head to stop him. "- Slept together."

Olive put her forehead in her hand, shaking her head. Great. Awesome. "Sorry." He said.

"You two... were intimate?" Dr. Whitly asked. He had a strange look in his eye. "How'd you meet? I would like to know about your girlfriends."

"We're not-"

"We were never-"

"Together." The finished at the same time. This was awkward and she hated everything.

The doctor raised his eyebrows and had a false smile on his lips, "Answer the question."

"At a club." Shot out of her mouth before Malcolm could fuck anything else up.

"I was on a case." Malcolm made it more believable, "And I saw her there and, well, look at her for yourself."

"I look at her every day." His smile was unwavering.

"I'm going to go." Olive stated as she turned, her pale cheeks pink.

"No, you're not." Mr. David said as he shoved the keys into her hands. "This key unlocks the handcuffs. Do that when Malcolm leaves. I'm going on break."

Olive awkwardly stood outside the room, becoming security with her stun gun and pepper spray. She wanted to use those on Malcolm right about now. They were talking about murder, which was not surprising. Malcolm was raised on murder. It was an everyday thing throughout the years after Dr. Whitly was caught. Malcolm was smart, and Martin matched his wits with hypotheticals that gave subtle answers. They would have a great relationship if Martin hadn't had been a psychopath.

Maybe Malcolm was one, too.

Eventually, Malcolm left. Olive mouthed 'thank you' to him as he said goodbye to her. However, she wasn't ready for what had for her.

"Olive." He said, "May I speak with you please?"

Olive gulped before turning and walking into the room, "Martin-"

"You had sex with my son?" His toes were almost touching the red line. He was so close to causing alarms to go off.

Olive had to give him something. She stepped closer to him, talking quietly, "No. He lied as a favor to me." True.

Martin shook his head, "Why?"

Olive walked over to his bed and sat down, placing her head in her hands as her thoughts raced. Was she about to reveal everything to him right now? She didn't plan on ever doing that. He moved to stand in front of her, his arms crossed, "... He was the consultant on... My case." Words formed in her mind. A perfect lie.

"Your case?"

Olive nodded, "I was going to be a victim." That was true, but the picture was a lie.

"Oh." Martin sat down next to her, "Which case?"

"It was a small one. Not a huge serial killer or anything." True. "A guy I rejected in high school had me on his list." Lie.

"His... List. His kill list?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Olive," He wrapped his arms around her and it would've felt nice if the lie didn't make her feel good. She used to not care about lying, but sex will do that to a relationship dynamic. It'll make you more caring for the other. Sickening, and not in a good way. "You know you can tell me anything."

Her smile didn't reach her eyes, "I know."

Later that day, during her second time visiting the doctor, she got a phone call from Unknown during their cuddle session, "I have to take this."

Martin groaned, "Do you?"

Olive stood and answered, pulling on her pants, "Yes, I'll accept the charges." She pulled her shirt over her head.

"Olive?" Her mother said over the phone.

"Hey, this is a bad time, can I visit you tomorrow?"

"Too bad to talk about what your father had done?"

Olive sighed, "I'm at work. I'm certain you're lying, anyway. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Someone calling from prison?" The question made a chill run down her spine.

"Yes, my uncle."

"What'd he do?"

"He pirated movies and television series." That was dumb.

Martin sighed and stood up, "What has this country come to?" He started to get dressed, pushing his belt over his pants, "It used to be only hardened criminals got sent to prison, but now it's anyone who even coughs next to the crime."

"It's really unfair." She agreed, picking up her taser and pepper spray, "But, he's neurotic."

"Aren't we all?" He hugged around her middle and rested his forehead against hers, her arms snaked around his neck."I really appreciate you being here. Existing, even."

"I suppose you were lonely."

"You did so much more than lift my loneliness. You sparked my fire."

Olive let go of him, but he didn't let go of her, "I thought your wife did that for you."

His arms tightened around her as he looked deeply into her eyes, more serious than she had ever seen him, "Forget about her."

How could she do that? That's when she knew that he was playing her. Olive smiled and kissed him, "I better get back to my post."

Her mother looked gorgeous, as always. The orange complimented her skin tone.

"I'm not lying to you." She said, "Do you really think I have any more cards to play? I'm in prison!"

"My dad did not abuse me." Olive was shocked and disgusted at the inclination.

"You wouldn't remember, sweetie, you were only six. He went into therapy and I thought he was cured until I saw his files on his laptop." She was crying again. So was Olive.

"I'm leaving."

"Olive, please, I did everything to protect you and other little girls! I don't regret it!"

Olive walked out.

That night, Olive had a dream. A memory. Her mother was right and it came flooding back to her, making her throw up all night.

She called in sick.


	7. Chapter 7

The sickness never ended. She felt it throughout the day, unable to concentrate on her book or even a television show. It was only background noise to her thoughts. Her mother killed her father to protect little girls, and let everyone think it was for insurance money to protect Olive's memory of him. What was the point of her mother telling her now? Olive thought that she wanted her to live in ignorant bliss.

She was going to visit her again and ask. However, now was work-time. The thought of seeing Dr. Whitly made her throw up again just an hour before work. She didn't want to have sex ever again at that moment. She felt dirty and disgusting. It wasn't her fault, but she couldn't do anything about how she felt.

Olive walked into the hallway, her shaky hands being steadied by the tray between her hands. "Good morning, Mr. David." She greeted first, which she never did. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Aren't you cheery today?" He said. No, she wasn't. She needed a distraction.

"I'm cheery every day." She answered as he unlocked the door. Olive was always nervous about seeing Martin, but even more so today.

"Olive!" The doctor said cheerfully, "It's always the highlight of my day seeing you." Of course it was. He got laid every time because she couldn't control herself. In fact, it made her sick that she just wanted him to hold her at that moment.

"Are you alright, Olive?" He stood and walked over to her. She had spaced out.

"Back up, doctor, or I'll have to cuff you." Mr. David warned. If only he knew.

Martin held up his hands and backed up as he was told.

"I'm alright, Dr. Whitly. Just not feeling well."

"Maybe you should go home." He honestly sounded concerned.

"I'm alright." She smiled at him weakly and walked out to give Mr. David his break. She sat down and pulled out a different book, Rosemary's Baby, and tried to read it.

"Is the honeymoon stage over between us?" Martin asked. "Why don't you come in here and read? I promise, no funny business. I just want to be close to you."

She wanted to be close to him, too. Olive stood and unlocked the door, stepping inside. Martin held his arms out for a hug and she obliged. She needed his warmth. "What's wrong, Oli?" He muttered into her blonde hair. That was the first time he used a nickname.

Olive thought that it was time. She trusted him enough. Which, was stupid, but she knew it was. Somehow that gave her comfort. She pulled away from him and looked into his dark blue eyes, the opposite on the spectrum of blue than hers, and whispered, "I need to talk to you."

"You're pregnant." He stated like he knew.

"What?" She was shocked, "No, I'm on birth control."

"It's only 99.7% effective."

"I'm not- Martin, please,"

"You've been sick a lot lately-"

"My mother killed my father!" She wasn't whispering anymore. She sighed and sat down in the folding chair that sat away from the red line. Martin was stunned.

"But, you said that they died in an electrical fire."

"I lied. This whole time I've been lying. I knew you were Malcolm's father. He told me about you."

"When he was investigating your mother." Martin put it together, "Who called you from prison, not your pirating uncle."

Olive worked her hands together, "... I needed to see if you could actually feel love for your family. My mother didn't show it to me while I grew up, but Malcolm said... That you were a good father."

"Oh." He stepped towards the red line, "I can feel love alright. Not just towards my family." Martin shook his head, "I knew you were hiding something. Just not this."

"I have more." Olive was nervous and sweating.

"More?" Martin scoffed, "I don't care. You tricked me into falling in love with you just to see if a killer could. Well, surprise, we're human, too."

Her heart stopped at his confession. No way did he love her. "I didn't mean to get this attached to you. I was supposed to just watch and listen, but... You drew me in. Like a moth."

"To my spark. I told you we had chemistry." He got down on his knees in front of her, "Please tell me you feel the same."

Did she love him? The last few weeks with him had brought her so many mixed emotions, but she didn't think love was one of them, "I don't know... Maybe puppy love."

"I love puppies." He smiled. "What else?"

"What?"

"What more do you have to tell me?"

She was going to tell him, but now she wanted to keep it to herself. "... I think you still love your wife." Came to her mind before anything else.

Martin sighed, "Are you kidding me? Compared to you, she's boring. You're exciting. There's more to you than just your place in society."

Somehow, that didn't make her feel better. She smiled anyway.

"I was tired of you hating me." Her mother said. "It was time you knew. You're twenty-five."

"I never hated you, mom. I just wished that you showed that you loved me more."

"That's hard to do with the knowledge I had. I really tried to make things work with your father, but it just didn't. I couldn't just divorce him with what I knew."

"You should've told the jury. You would've gotten less time."

Her mother smiled, "Twenty-five years isn't so bad."

"With parole." Olive reminded her. "I'll be fifty when you get out."

"Fifty is better than nothing.

Dr. Whitly sat with the phone he was allowed to use. He gave Mr. David the phone number and asked for privacy as it started ringing. Mr. David obliged. Eventually, someone picked up. A woman with a confused, nervous voice, "Hello?" She didn't receive phone calls often.

"Hello, Mrs. Jackson. This is Olive's boyfriend."

There was silence before more confusion, "Boyfriend? Olive doesn't have a boyfriend."

"I assure you, she does. We're in love. I was wondering if I could ask two, possibly three, questions."

"What are they?" Her confusion never ebbed away.

"Ohe, why did you kill her father? She's a bit tight-lipped about that. And two, may I have your permission to marry her?"

"W-what?"

"I'll give you a moment to think." He was grinning.

"... The insurance money. For the insurance money. And I suppose if she wants to marry you, then go ahead."

"Thank you. Third question, how much was that insurance payout?"

"... Ask her yourself, boyfriend." She then hung up.

Martin was happy. Olive failed to mention that she now had a lot of money. She did show, however, that she was under his spell.

That's exactly where he needed her to be.


End file.
